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“It doesn’t matter what you eat. Nothing is going to change how stunning you’ll look in a leather dress.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I glance away, only for Colten to take my chin between his fingers and bring me back to him. “Gianna, I mean it.”
He leaves no room for argument. It’s funny, the one man who I assumed would never, ever see anything other than the bitch version of me is peeling back the layers faster than anyone in my life ever has. Not that many have tried; I don’t let them close enough.
“Open,” he commands.
He brings the cake back, tapping my lips. I open for him, and he slips it into my mouth.
Just like that, I’m taking orders from a man and getting wet about it.
Learning something new about myself every day.
“You’re allowed to enjoy life, G. I know it might not seem like it with the world we live in, but my mom always taught us to make the most of the days we have. Eat the cake. Have as much sex as possible. Drink the beer. Smoke the cigarettes. Save the animals. I might work myself to death, but I still understand the rules and what matters.”
I frown. “Save the animals?”
“I’ll show you when we’re home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Colten
In the short time I’ve got to know Gianna, I’ve seen enough to know there is a bucket load of childhood trauma festering inside her.
Not leaving any of her meals. Her father bullying her into what she should wear. Not eating sweet treats. The way she shuts down in any conversation about her life growing up. She doesn’t just avoid it; she shuts down completely.
Everything starts to make sense, and it makes me fucking sick to my stomach.
He created probably one of the most ruthless and powerful women in the world, yet inside she’s one of the most wounded people I’ve ever come across.
And that’s what makes her so deadly. Everything she does is for his approval. The wedding, the alliance with Enzo, and us. Keeping her goddamn virginity so her father can sell her off like a prize fucking mare.
It makes me want to put a bullet between his eyes, but I don’t think she’d ever forgive me, because that man, whether I like it or not, is her father. And for some reason I’ll never fully comprehend, I’m guessing she’s doing all of this to prove she’s worthy of the empire.
“What’s the plan?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. “Because after all that food, I really, really want a cigarette.”
A woman after my own heart.
“I’m waiting on some addresses of the guys that came in earlier. We can either sit tight here, or go back to the villa?”
Her eyes light up. “Villa. Too many people in this place; my skin is starting to crawl.”
My gaze drifts over her tattooed skin. “What’s the shark ink for?” I ask. It’s right under the eyeball and above a rose on her forearm.
She looks down, rubbing her finger over it. “It’s a fascinating story, Colten. I went to my tattoo artist, Liam, and he was drawing a shark on a piece of paper, and I said, fuck the paper, put it on me. And as if by magic, I walked out with a great white shark on my arm.”
I smile; she’s pretty much a female version of me. “None of mine mean shit either. Some I was drunk. Others I thought would look cool,” I tell her.
I wonder what tattoo she’d get for me? A meatball? I’d get her name. Plain and simple, there in ink on my skin for the world to see. But that’s gettin’ ahead of myself. She’s just about holding a conversation with me; I don’t think we’re quite at couples tattoos yet.
“You mean you aren’t a fallen angel, and those wings on your back don’t represent that?” she says with a smirk.
“You’re a mean woman, Gianna.”
She presses her hand to her chest, pouting. “Mean? I’m terrible. I’m vicious. Use a stronger fucking word than mean.”
“Fine. You’re a bitch.”
